


Running From The Night

by BarricadeButterfly



Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming Out, Gay Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male Slash, Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarricadeButterfly/pseuds/BarricadeButterfly
Summary: This is a little add-on piece to 'If You Come Quietly' but written from Enjolras' POV. (Thank you botherbutterfly for this idea!) I don't think it will make much sense alone but will tie in nicely if you read IYCC first. Again, warnings for gay foreplay and sex.Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: My Enjoltaire One Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927930
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Running From The Night

_Jesus Fucking Christ…_

What the hell was wrong with him?

Enjolras hid outside in the shadows of the Café Musain and leaned back against the wall, the coldness of the bricks soothing against the prickling heat that was creeping up his spine. It had been a bad idea to come here after the day he’d had; he wasn’t strong enough tonight to pretend to himself that it was just because it was his favourite place to chill out after a hectic day at uni. Of course, Musain had so many appealing qualities: the place stayed open later than most other cafes in close vicinity to campus, they always had student discount deals on and the caramel lattes were beyond compare. Oh, and the guy who worked there was the most beautiful sight Enjolras had ever laid eyes on.

He hadn’t even noticed to begin with. Hadn’t joined the dots. Grantaire was just like one of the fascinating paintings that adorned the maroon walls of the establishment; a well placed enhancement to the natural appeal. Enjolras obviously wasn’t seeking out chances to glance up when he raised his cup to his mouth and hid behind it and neither would he ever have made a point of choosing a seat that faced the counter where he had a more unobstructed view. It was only when he realised he had subconsciously collected notes on Grantaire’s shift patterns and found himself sinking with disappointment when he arrived one day to find no sight of the man that he began to realise what he had been trying so hard to ignore: he was smitten with the guy.

After that it became increasingly difficult to deny it to himself but he was making steady progress. Until, that is, the night when he stayed late.

From the window somewhere above Enjolras’ head, the lights inside were switched off and he welcomed the increased darkness that fell over him as he leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. A moment later came the sound of keys jingling in the lock and the sound of footsteps retreating, then silence. With a shaky breath, Enjolras opened his eyes but promptly sucked in a gasp when he came face to face with the silent figure of Grantaire.

“ _Fuck!”_ He exclaimed, one trembling hand shooting to his chest.

“Sorry,” Grantaire stuttered, taking a step backwards again to add a little more respectable distance. “I heard something and thought I better check it out. You’re not going through our bins are you? The bread is already mouldy. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Enjolras stared at him blankly and it took the other man’s lips raising in a tentative smile to make him realise it was a joke. “Oh! Yeah… no, sorry… just… catching my breath.”

Grantaire frowned. “Are you ok?”

_No, I’m not fucking ok. I’m far from ok and it’s all your fault._

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You’re not… nobody’s hurt you, have they?”

The concern in the question sent a warm trickle through Enjolras’ body that seemed to pool in his crotch and linger. He turned sideways on so he could lean his shoulder against the wall and hopefully use the shadow of his body to hide the movement in his trousers. All this accomplished, however, was stoking the other man’s concern and he neared Enjolras so that the shadow of the wall fell over half of his face. _Thank god for that at least._ Enjolras couldn’t stand what those dark brooding eyes were doing to him.

“Honestly, I’m good… Sorry, just had a day of it, you know?... Needed a moment.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

It wasn’t the sound of those words so close to his ear that made Enjolras instinctively move closer to the source of them; it was the feel of the breath that accompanied them – so close and warm he could feel it on his face.

He would spend hours later trying to convince himself that it had been the other man to blame. After all, it was Grantaire who had stepped right up to him so they were both swallowed by the darkness, it was Grantaire who had raised his hands to pull his beanie down onto his messy dark curls and accidentally brushed Enjolras’ arm with his elbow, and it was Grantaire who had caught the glint of his eye in the light of the moon and held it mercilessly. But it was he, Enjolras, who had pressed his mouth to the other man’s before he could stop himself and as much as he wanted to deny that, Enjolras knew it was the truth.

Grantaire didn’t even flinch. A muffled little moan vibrated in the back of his throat but if it was meant to be a word of some description, it never made it past Enjolras’ tongue. And then he was pushing Enjolras even further back against the wall and pressing against him to keep him there, his fingers wasting no time fumbling to undo Enjolras’ fly and slip one hand inside. The overwhelming desire that coursed through Enjolras was like nothing he had ever known and he tried to give it some release with the intensity of his desperate kisses upon the man’s mouth as Grantaire began jacking him with just as much fervency.

Not a single word was spoken and there was hardly any sound but for the stifled groan through lips pressed tightly together to supress it as Enjolras came quickly into Grantaire’s hand, his own fingers clinging to the back of the man’s shirt. Within moments, he had recovered himself enough for the immense horror at his actions to set in and he was pushing Grantaire away, scrabbling to zip himself back up and dash off into the night without either a word or even a look back.

*

Ignoring something didn’t make it go away but if you were feeling particularly cowardly, it sure as hell helped for a time. Enjolras learned this lesson over the next few weeks when he avoided both Musain, Grantaire and his own feelings like the plague. Fortunately, with study and the upcoming rally there was plenty to keep him busy. By the time the day arrived, Enjolras had just about perfected the art of denial and was even beginning to feel more like himself again (a good protest march always had that effect).

Of course, he wasn’t expecting to see Grantaire.

As far as Enjolras knew, the guy was as apolitical as they came so the chances of him turning up to something like this were pretty slim. Yet, when Enjolras ran for a last minute coffee and almost ran straight into him in the process, he was spectacularly proven wrong. The short and awkward exchange that ensued was painful and Enjolras couldn’t get away quick enough. However, when he stood in line waiting for his coffee, the guilt began to creep in. The words that he had spoken to the man, as sparse as they were, had been nothing short of cold and he owed him more than that. He had all of five minutes before he had to be on stage so the two choices available were either to wait for his weak and frankly appalling coffee or go back outside to Grantaire and offer up some sort of attempt at an apology. Choosing the latter, he turned on his heel and rushed back out of the building, a string of sorrys already forming in his mouth, but the man was now gone and Enjolras was left feeling unfamiliarly vulnerable and alone.

*

By the end of the day and the end of the rally, there was no doubt in Enjolras’ mind that he had to seek this man out and apologise to him for… well, everything. There was no moving on and putting any of this behind him until he had. One of the qualities he liked about himself was his stubbornness and it would serve him well in this situation; he _would_ make his peace with the man he had wronged so horridly, he _would_ put these ridiculous feelings to bed once and for all and he _would_ move on with his life the way it should be. And then he would be ok and life could return to normal, thank god.

Grantaire, however, made it significantly more difficult by being so unresponsive to his apology.

Enjolras could feel his resolve starting to slip as he stood in the man’s kitchen, drinking a beer he didn’t want and wishing he was anywhere else in the whole world other than there. When Grantaire made it clear he wanted Enjolras to leave, he was equally relieved and hurt and when he tried to leave, he hadn’t meant to give in on his way out the door; he hadn’t meant to grab the man and attack his mouth with a tongue that had been desperate to explore it again for three long weeks. He hadn’t meant to start undressing and touching him right there in the fucking doorway. _Jesus christ Enj, what the fuck is happening to you?_

Grantaire wasn’t stopping him and from the way that he responded, it became suddenly clear to Enjolras that out of the two of them, Grantaire was the only one who knew what he was doing and had obviously done this before. The realisation both terrified Enjolras and turned him on more than he ever knew was possible until then. He knew at that point that he had no will strong enough to stop himself anymore. He wanted to put himself in this man’s hands, in every possible way, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything more.

When he found himself stripped naked and laying on the kitchen table with the other man taking him first with his fingers and then with his cock, it was both terrifying and exquisite. Despite Grantaire’s assurance that he would be gentle and take his time, eventually he lost control and was slamming into Enjolras with such force that he could feel the table beginning to buckle beneath him. It hurt more than he thought it would to begin with but the pain was obliterated by the incomparable orgasm he could feel building.

He knew then that he was in trouble.

*

Whatever Grantaire was doing to him was splitting him into two parts that were fighting against each other with equal vigour. One part of him felt the unutterable fear of teetering upon such an unknown and unexpected precipice, wanting both to save himself and allow himself to fall at the same time. The other part of him, the part that wanted to fall, felt like he was finally experiencing the true sweetness of life for the first time in his twenty one years and it was too exhilarating to turn his back on.

He became like a man possessed; trying to satiate his endless thirst for the man with his own hand at every available opportunity but it was nowhere near good enough and the provocative text exchange that began didn’t help. When he could take no more and sent the words he’d been longing to say, he knew he was about to throw himself head-first into the abyss. And when less than thirty minutes later he was stood outside Grantaire’s house and the man opened the door in just his boxers, Enjolras cast a hungry eye over him and felt the lightning bolt fire up every nerve ending in his body.

“Umm… you do know my flat mate is home right?” Grantaire had asked, looking so lovingly bewildered that Enjolras had to fight the urge to throw himself upon the man right there and then.

_Last chance Enj, last chance to change your mind, back away from whatever the fuck this is and run screaming for the hills. Last chance…_

“Presumably she’s not in your bed?”

“Obviously not.”

_Last chance. It’s not too late. You can keep fighting this. You can try and forget it. You can… You can-_

“Well then.”

Grantaire had wasted no time taking hold of Enjolras’ wrist and practically dragging him into his bedroom and the sex that followed was as erotic as it was tender; Enjolras had not known the two could co-exist so perfectly before then. He was starting to understand why the prospect of taking a girl home had never appealed to him and the one random drunken fumble he had experienced with a girl at a friend’s party was an experience he had never felt inclined to repeat. He had argued with himself that it was just because he was so busy with uni and all the work he did for the ABC society which to some extent was true, but it had given him a convenient mask to hide behind until Grantaire had swooped into his life and snatched it away.

“You are so goddamn beautiful,” Grantaire purred as he leant his face into Enjolras’ neck and panted heavily, trying to gather enough strength to pull out of the man now he was thoroughly spent.

Enjolras had lost all track of time since he’d been guided into the bedroom but he had a suspicion they must have been going at it for a good hour at least considering how exhausted they both were, Grantaire more so seeing as he had done all the work. Enjolras enjoyed being sub as much as Grantaire seemed to enjoy being dom and his nerves and inexperience had led the other man to recreate the same position as last time to help reassure him; something Enjolras appreciated as he really didn’t want his lack of knowledge in the bedroom to show him up. And he couldn’t deny that it was much more comfortable with a bed rather than a table below him. He also liked how Grantaire never ignored his erection in favour of attending to his own. He was a considerate lover and Enjolras couldn’t get enough of that.

“And you are fucking amazing,” Enjolras returned when he was free to move onto his side, hook a leg over Grantaire’s thigh and lean down to plant a breathy kiss on his warm lips. The feel of the man’s arms coming up to loop around his back made him shudder. “You make me feel so good… could do this all night long.”

Grantaire laughed softly. “Might need a few minutes recovery first.”

Enjolras allowed himself a few more stolen minutes of kissing while he waited for his legs to stop shaking. It was all too easy to sink into soft and deep heavenly kisses with Grantaire and he knew if he didn’t make a sincere effort, he could lose the whole night doing just that. Right then, the thought of that was too terrifying to comprehend and not because it was so unappealing but because it wasn’t. The mental image that was trying to nudge its way into his consciousness of curling up in this man’s arms and falling asleep only to wake a few hours later in the same position, tangled in the bedsheets enclosed in Grantaire’s arms, safe and warm and…. Content…. It was too scary to admit to himself how badly he wanted that.

“Don’t worry,” he said eventually, pushing himself up on his arms to a sitting position. “I have to go anyway.”

He tensed, awaiting the backlash like last time, but when he risked looking down at Grantaire, still stretched out tantalisingly on the bed and gazing up at him, there was just a very timid smile on his face.

“Yeah, I thought you might,” Grantaire said and though there was a hint of sadness in his voice there was no malice in his words. “It’s ok. Don’t look so panicked. I understand.”

 _Glad one of us does,_ thought Enjolras as he redressed quickly and quietly, feeling the other man’s eyes on him the whole time. There were a million words he wanted to say before leaving, all crowding in on his head at the same time, but in the end he just chose “Can we do this again sometime?”

Grantaire got up out of bed, walked silently over to Enjolras and drew him into a long and passionate kiss. Perhaps it was intentional and if he wanted to send Enjolras off just as he was starting to get hard again, then he most certainly succeeded.

“Text me,” said Grantaire, with Enjolras’ face still in his hands, pressing a last gentle kiss to the man’s lips.

And Enjolras knew he would.

At the first available chance he got.

*

It wasn’t a relationship and it wasn’t just sex; at least not to Enjolras. He didn’t know what it was and was scared to try and label it as anything and make it real. What he did know was that if he went more than twenty four hours without seeing the man, he started to physically ache for him. Watching himself flourish when he was with Grantaire was like witnessing the birth of himself in a very unfamiliar yet sensational way. It was becoming irresistible – _Grantaire w_ as irresistible – and the feelings the man invoked within him were growing more and more uncontrollable by the day. He was almost constantly absorbed in a state of terrified wonder when they were together. If Grantaire minded that Enjolras was so inexperienced, he didn’t show it and when Enjolras wanted to try different things in bed as his confidence grew, Grantaire always welcomed, encouraged and gently guided him in the right direction. He even seemed pleasantly surprised on the one occasion when Enjolras seemed to decide he no longer needed any hand holding and practically threw Grantaire down over the kitchen cabinet before he’d even got a chance to close the door behind them and took him with an urgency and strength that was almost animalistic. Having the power to completely wreck the man who had so much power over him was infuriatingly addictive and Enjolras found that spending his waking days in a permanent state of arousal was gradually becoming the new norm thanks to Grantaire.

He was enjoying himself so much he hadn’t even noticed that it had grown into something more until the occasion when Grantaire was laying below him with his fingers tangled in his hair and saying the words that burned Enjolras’ ears just to hear them: “It’s just sex.”

He had muttered something incomprehensible in response and inwardly cursed himself for being such a damn open book when he saw the dawn of recognition in Grantaire’s eyes.

“Is it not just sex for you anymore Enj? Be honest with me.” The question, he guessed, was inevitable but actually vocalising a response when it was scary enough just to hear it silently in his head? Yeah, that was substantially trickier.

There was still a little part of him that wanted to cut loose and run away; to take this get out clause and use it while it was so readily available. But when he opened his mouth to speak, the words that fell out came from a deeper more primal place inside him: “It was never just about sex. Do you think that’s all you are to me? Just a fuck? I mean, is that all I am to you?”

He hadn’t realised until then how crushed he would have been if he’d received the wrong answer and suddenly, for the first time ever with anyone, a sincere and almighty _I LOVE YOU_ was burning on the tip of his tongue.

If Combeferre hadn’t chosen that exact moment to ring and ruin the moment perhaps he would have allowed it to escape but he was glad that he hadn’t. There was no way in hell he was ready to admit something like that yet. At least, not aloud anyway.

*

Despite his talent for shit timing, Combeferre did have some uses as his best friend, however. One of them was his inherent ability to read Enjolras’ expression and know without a shadow of a doubt when he was lying.

“Say you’re fine one more time and I swear to god, Enj, I will punch you in the fucking face,” he said when they were sat side by side in the lecture hall the next day. “Why are you being so cagey? You’re actually starting to worry me now so just cut it out and tell me what’s going on, yeah?”

Enjolras fiddled with the folder on his lap just for something to do and looked unseeingly ahead to where the tutor was readying the projector, knowing full well there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate today. Without looking at his friend, he spoke quietly. “I need to tell you something Ferre.”

“I gathered that much. So just say it already.”

Enjolras felt the words rise up in his throat, paralyse his tongue with fear, and then sink back down again. “Not now, in here. Do you have time for a coffee after this?”

“Course. Common room or Musain?”

Enjolras smiled to himself. “Common room.”

*

It was so rare that he spent any time in the common room at university that Enjolras had forgotten how dismal it was. The radiators were never switched on so the cold air in the room during the winter months was intense enough to see your breath in at certain times of the day, the two leather sofas, when they were available, were tatty and stained yet still more appealing than the ugly hard backed white plastic chairs and the coffee was horrendous. Still, on that particular day Enjolras wasn’t aware of any of it and when Combeferre returned from the counter and placed a paper cup down on the table in front of him, he didn’t even acknowledge it and certainly couldn’t bring himself to drink it.

“Enj, you’re really starting to scare me. What’s going on?” Combeferre asked in a voice that was uncharacteristically gentle and made Enjolras want to burst into tears.

“I think….” He began, looking into his friend’s eyes and then looking quickly away, focusing on his coffee because it was altogether less terrifying which said it all really. “Ferre, I think I’m in trouble.”

“Oh god, what have you done? Am I gonna need to prepare an alibi again? Fucks sake, I know how much the ABC means to you but you can’t keep crusading like this Enj. We’ve actually gotta pass this degree too and they’re not gonna let us do it from a prison cell-“

“It’s nothing like that,” said Enjolras. _Although that would be less terrifying._

“Ok… Good. So?”

Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut tight for a second and when he opened them, he sighed forcibly and made himself look Combeferre in the eye. “Uhh… I think I’m in love.”

The grin that spread on his friend’s face was instantaneous and he shook his head unbelievingly. “Holy fuck Enj… you had me thinking all sorts for a while there. And this is the big thing you wanted to tell me? Man, I know already. You were with her last night when we were talking on the phone weren’t you? Who is she?”

Enjolras sucked in his breath and didn’t dare let it out again until he’d replied. “Umm… not a she.”

“Oh…. Oh, ok,” Combeferre stuttered and then suddenly looked wide eyed and mortified. “It’s not me, is it?”

“Do me a favour!” Enjolras actually laughed and felt himself relax just a fraction.

“Hey, I’m kind of insulted by that! But a little relieved too, I gotta say,” said Combeferre with a smirk and nudged his elbow into Enjolras’ arm. “So come on then, which guy is better looking than me?”

It took Enjolras a moment to gather himself enough to answer and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to say Grantaire’s name aloud (hell, he wanted nothing more now than to scream it from the rooftops), but the brotherly smile of acceptance that had so easily graced Combeferre’s face was making him feel too choked up to speak.

He knew then that he’d stepped over a line and was amazed at last to find only wonder at himself for not stepping over it sooner. And relief. A huge tidal wave of relief.

Suddenly, Enjolras was desperate to get to Musain where he knew Grantaire was working today.

There was something he had to do.


End file.
